


See Me Try

by hatethesilence312



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek beats this guy up, First Kiss, M/M, Protective!Derek, spoilers for season 3A
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatethesilence312/pseuds/hatethesilence312
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After season 3A, Scott tells Stiles he needs to go to Jungle to relax and distract himself from the darkness around his heart. A stranger makes too many unwanted advances on Stiles and a certain someone comes to his defense.</p><p>*<br/>This fic contains a man hitting on Stiles and sexually harassing him. He doesn't rape Stiles, which is why I didn't give a warning for it, and Derek shows up before he can actually do anything, but if that seems like something that would trigger you, stay away. I don't want anyone to be triggered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See Me Try

**Author's Note:**

> I was just kind of feeling angry so I channeled it into Derek Hale beating someone up in Stiles' defense. So yeah. Here's what came of that.

Stiles takes a deep breath. He isn’t really sure _why_ he let Scott talk him into doing this, why he thought going out to a gay bar is a good idea. Scott told him that Stiles needs to loosen up, distract himself from the darkness around his heart. Stiles disagrees and doesn’t like the idea, but for some reason, he spent half an hour with Lydia fussing over his hair and clothes and then he was driving to Jungle anyway.

                Danny works as a bartender here, so Stiles begins shoving his way toward the bar immediately. He just wants someone familiar.

                “Stiles,” Danny says, surprised. “What can I get you?”

                “Hey, Dannyboy.” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Surprise me. Nothing too strong, though, I have to drive home.”

                Danny nods and begins moving around, making a drink. Stiles leans against the bar and pulls out his phone, starts sending a text to Scott.

                _I don’t know why you sent me here. I don’t need to get out. I’m fine._

“Hey,” A deep voice says, and Stiles realizes belatedly that someone is standing behind him, pressed up against his back.

                Stiles flails forward in surprise, spinning around to face the man. He’s a lot taller than Stiles, and thicker, with biceps three times the size of Stiles’ and facial hair. He looks like a bigger version of Derek Hale, he notes, only Derek is angrier. And he never really looked at Stiles like he’s a piece of meat.

                “Oh, um, hi.” He says, because he never responded to the guy’s greeting.

                “Can I buy you a drink?” He asks and his voice is _way_ deeper than Derek’s and Stiles is uncomfortable and intimidated.

                “Um, no thanks. But thank you for the offer, really.”

                He steps forward, crowding into Stiles’ personal space and _wow_ he hated this way less when Derek did it. Stiles shrinks back against the bar. “Um.”

                “You wanna dance?” He asks and Stiles swallows.

                “I-um…”

                Danny leans across the bar and whispers into Stiles’ ear. “Relax. Go dance. Have a good time.”

                “Okay,” Stiles says weakly. They walk out to the crowd and Stiles’ feels his heart rate spike up and _this isn’t what this is supposed to be like._

                The guy puts his hands on Stiles’ hips and turns him around, pulling his front flush with Stiles’ back and Stiles is _really_ uncomfortable. He tries to make himself move with the music a little, but he’s too nervous and distracted. It gets worse when he can feel the stranger’s boner start pressing against his ass and Stiles he cringes away from him like he’s been burned.

                But the guy is stronger than Stiles and he keeps his grip on his hips tight and pulls him back in. He leans down, pressing his face against Stiles’ neck and Stiles feels nauseous.

                “Can you—I need—”

                “Mm,” the man rumbles—there’s really no other word for it—into his ear. “I know what you need.” And one meaty hand presses against Stiles’ stomach and starts sliding down and Stiles has never been hit on before but it’s _definitely_ not supposed to feel like this.

                “No, no, can you _stop,_ I don’t—” The man starts to push his fingertips under the waistband of Stiles’ jeans and _no._

                He stomps down onto the arch of the man’s foot before his hand can creep any lower. He throws an elbow back, trying to hurt him just enough to free himself. If he can get the guy to let him go, he’ll get the hell out of here, go home and—

                “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you,” The man growls into his ear and Stiles’ shiver is completely different from the way he’d shuddered when Derek had growled at him before.

                “Get off of me.”

                “Mm, but where’s the fun in that?”

                “Get your hands off of him.”

                The voice comes from somewhere to Stiles’ left and his head snaps around so fast he probably pulled something. “Derek,” Stiles squeaks and he never _ever_ thought he’d feel this relieved to see him in his life. Then again, he’d never thought he’d see Derek again, either.

                The hands on Stiles tighten. “You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend.”

                “You haven’t exactly given me an opportunity to say much,” Stiles snaps. “Get _off_ of me.”

                “And if I don’t?” He pulls Stiles in tighter.

                “If you don’t, I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth,” Derek growls, and his eyes are red. If Stiles wasn’t being bad-touched by a stranger who smells like alcohol and BO, he’d probably be turned on.

                “I’d like to see you try,” The man snaps, and he flexes his arms around Stiles.

                “Let go of him and I’ll show you.”

                He shoves Stiles away so fast that Stiles almost face-plants. Derek grabs him, though, catching him by the waist and whirling around, pushing him behind him. “Stiles,” He says, “Are you okay?”

                “Yeah,” He mumbles, moving so he was next to Derek so he could see his face instead of his back.

                Derek arches his eyebrows at the man. “Still wanna see me try?”

                “Bring it on.”

                “Not here,” Derek says. “Too many people. Out back. Let’s go.”

                Derek and the man stalk out the back doors and Stiles chases after them, because if he doesn’t, Derek might kill the guy.

                And he wants to know why Derek is in town and if he doesn’t follow him, he might leave before Stiles can ask any questions.

                The second the doors close behind them, the man swings at Derek. Derek ducks under the fist, grabs his forearm and twists. The guy cries out and brings his other hand around, rakes nails down Derek’s face. Derek kicks his feet out from under him. He slams to his knees, arm still being yanked back. There’s a sickening _pop_ and Derek lets go of the arm and it falls limply to the ground. The guy is wailing and Derek sends a forceful kick into his side.

                “You think you can just _take_ people?” He growls, “That you can put your hands on anyone you want because you’re too big for them to fight off?”

                “Derek,” Stiles says, reaching out and wrapping his hand around as much as his bicep he can hold. “Don’t kill him.”

                Derek sends one more kick into his side and Stiles is pretty sure he hears ribs crack.

                “Pick on people your own size next time, okay?” Derek growls. “Or you know what? Never touch anyone ever again without their consent, how about that?”

                “Derek,” Stiles says, pulling at him. “You’ve taught him his lesson, let’s go.”

                “If you _ever_ do so much as _look_ at him again, I will not hesitate to kill you, do you understand me?”         

                “Hey,” Stiles’ voice lowers, becomes softer because Derek is _worried_ about him. “I’m okay. Come on, let’s get out of here before my dad arrests you.”

                The man spits blood out and pushes himself up on the arm that Derek didn’t rip out of the socket. “Gonna let your boyfriend fight all your fights for you? Gonna be a damsel in distress your whole life?”

                Derek snarls, but Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’ve saved his life as much as he’s saved mine. And keep in mind I just saved yours. He’d kill you if I’d let him. Let’s get out of here,” He says, tugging Derek by the arm around to the parking lot.

                Once they reach the Jeep, Stiles stops to stare at Derek. The guy had broken skin when he’d clawed at Derek’s face and there is blood running down his cheeks and forehead. The wound still looks fresh, and Stiles feels his face crease in concern. He reaches out and runs his thumb under Derek’s eyebrow, catching the blood before it could get into his eye.

                “Are you okay? Why aren’t you healing?”

                Derek reaches forward and grabs Stiles’ hips, pulling him close. He leans down and buries his face into the side of Stiles’ neck. He tenses. “You smell like him here.”

                “He put his face there. Here,” Stiles puts his fingers in Derek’s hair and moves his face to the other side of his neck.  It should be weird, but it’s not. Stiles knows, now, that scenting is important for werewolves and Derek needs this, needs to know he’s okay.

                After a few minutes, Derek pulls back and his face is healed. Stiles reaches out and runs his fingers along the smooth skin where there had been deep scratches before.

                “Why did it take so long? He’s not an alpha. He’s human, right?”

                “I lost my grip on my anchor,” Derek admits, looking guilty. “I’ve been anchored by anger for a long time, but tonight there was too much of it, I was too mad, and it wasn’t working. I was overwhelmed.  I was fighting tooth and nail to keep myself from changing right there. Apparently whatever I did to keep myself from shifting kept me from healing.”

                Stiles drops his hand from where he was still touching Derek’s scratches and steps back. “Well, thanks. For saving my life. Again.”

                “Are you okay?” Derek asks, his voice low. He looks like he wants to move forward, close that gap again, but he’s afraid of scaring or upsetting Stiles.

                “Yeah, just a little in shock, I guess. I mean, the first person to be attracted to me has to be an asshole that sexually harasses me. Of course. Because this is my life.”

                Derek steps forward and meets Stiles’ gaze. There is something intense in his eyes that makes Stiles’ stomach flutter with nerves—the good kind.

                “He’s not the first person to be attracted to you,” he says, his voice low and throaty and _whoa,_ Stiles is going to have dreams about that voice.

                And then Derek is cupping Stiles’ face in his hands and kissing him and Stiles freezes in surprise before reaching up and wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him in close. Derek turns, pressing Stiles into the side of the Jeep and Stiles makes a noise—it is absolutely not a whimper, thank you very much—and Derek is growling in response and then yanking himself back with what seems like a lot of effort. He steps away from Stiles and smiles at him. It’s a small smile, a private one, and Stiles is happy he gets to see it.

                “Go home, Stiles. You’ve had a rough night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

                Derek turns to walk away and Stiles calls out, “Derek!”

                He turns around with a raised eyebrow.

                “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were road-tripping with Cora.”

                “I was. I decided to stop in for a visit, we were nearby, and when Scott told me you were here,” Derek shrugs, “I figured I’d come surprise you.”

                Stiles nods and Derek starts to leave again.

                “I’m glad you came back,” He calls after him. “I hope you don’t leave again.”      

                Derek looks over his shoulder at him, smiles. “Me too. I won’t.”

                


End file.
